


of flowers and red tunic

by taniavee28



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 19:21:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17966510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taniavee28/pseuds/taniavee28
Summary: fi's a florist with big dreams. dani's an elusive dancer dancing in the town square.written for phandomficfest femslash february.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this was written for the femslash fic fest, and this is going to be uploaded in chapters. this fic is beta'ed by the lovely @quercussp on tumblr (@chiridotalaevis here on ao3). the world where this story is set in is sort of like the world where Howl's Moving Castle is set in. have no idea what that is? come over to my tumblr @thereal-me28 and you'll find out! ;)
> 
> leave comments and kudos if you liked it! 💕 thanks for reading 💕💕

“See, Fiona, sometimes you’ve got to have dreams that suit you, love.”

The voice shouldn’t piss her off – it really shouldn’t, given that it’s the voice of her wonderfully kind mother Katherine, and that it’s grounded in  _ experienced logic –  _ but sudsybubbles of annoyance go pop!pop!pop! as a little voice in the back of her head (it’s going to kill her, listening to that voice) goes  _ oh but if I was a boy, mother, you wouldn’t quite say that now would you?  _ She is, however, old enough to see through the underlying slivers of bitterness her thoughts are tinged with, and mature enough to hold her tongue. Her mother means well, she wants her little young fawn to stay safe – but seeing her elder brother Martyn pursuing his seafarer dreams at the nubile age of 15 while she’s had to tend to flowers the entire time, plants the seedlings of longing in her chest. 

Fi is silent as she resorts to arrange the already neat rows of flower baskets around their table in the morning market. With the morning sun rising from the horizon, the people rouse as well, and the throngs of people coming into the market increases as it would until midday. Right now, the darkness of the silverystarred night before still lingers around like the scent of flowers in maidenhair. Her mother notices, of course –  _ I am your mother after all, little fawn –  _ and she merely sighs. 

“I just wish you’d understand, Fiona. The sea, it isn’t meant for us. For ones like you and me. It’s dangerous out there, don’t you know? Or have you forgotten?” Katherine’s voice takes a bitter tone towards the end and Fi tries not to flinch.

Fi’s chest heaves in a resigned silentsigh. “I haven’t, Mother.”

Katherine gives her a little smile, soft and sweet and sad. “I just want you to be safe, little fawn.”

There is a silence that is filled with the noises of the marketplace waking up and stretching its limbs before Fi looks up from the flowers to meet the eyes of her mother. Her voice sounds a little strange, even to herself. “I know you do, Mother.”

-

It’s midday, and the Sun is at its peak, showering the land quite ruthlessly with warmth and light. The flowers have turned a little droopy. Fi isn’t in a better state herself. Her mother had headed home, trading gold coins for game and fruit and vegetables, and she had been at the marketplace ever since. The people walking past the stall had spared her the occasional glance and nothing else. 

She then resorts to walking around with baskets of flowers going  _ please, sir, would you want some flowers?  _ She had asked Louise from the stall next door for a little help in keeping an eye on the other flowers as well, and had offered (insisted) to sell some of her rubyred gerberas in return. 

The rubyred gerberas, of course, had sold out pretty quickly, and the coins jiggle in Fi’s pockets as she walks on the cobblestone pavement. Tulips and begonias take a little longer to sell out, as they usually do, but she’s usually able to sell them all by the end of the afternoon. Today, however, it seemed as if no one wanted anything to do with her flowers, and Fi’s on her wits end.

She turns by the corner and walks into the town square and notes that the square seems to be a little more alive than usual. There’s the faint sounds of music and the beat of a tambourine and the jingle of bells and the occasional cheering and clapping from the townsfolk. Fi’s intrigued,  _ is there a sort of dance at the town square?  _ There is a fairly thick crowd of people surrounding the square, craning their heads above the rest to try and source the sounds of bells and music.

She walks to the town square, hauling some flowers. A lady dressed in green robes sends the begonias a long look. 

She catches her eye. “Would you like some flowers, miss? They’re five coins a bunch.”

She nods curtly. “Two bunches of each.”

Fi accepts the coins from the lady in green, letting them clink with the others in her pocket. She silently sends whoever it is that’s causing the commotion a thanks. 

Just then the crowd shifts a little. Fi’s able to find a nook to squeeze through, and in the middle she sees an elusive gypsy woman dancing. 

The gypsy woman is a whirlwind of colour and trinkets and coins and allure, and she twirls and swirls and weaves a spell of allure and mythical wonder in her grace. She’s serpentine in her movements, with the colours shifting and swaying and the bells chiming around her. It seems as if she’s enchanted the crowd, Fi included, with her mysterious charm. 

Fi watches in awe as the gypsy woman moves fluidly with a serene smile on her face. She seems so calm, eyes closed as she moves with suppleness. A chillired bandana is wrapped around her head from which her hair cascades in heavy brown waves that curl and end in lovely ringlets. Heavy gold earrings dangle from her ears, glittering and sparkling in the morning light. Her neck is adorned with a beaded necklace, the beads alternating between amberyellow and jadegreen and sapphireblue. Thick gold bangles run across the skin of her limbs, back and forth as she swings her arms in the air. Her skirt is vibrant with different hues, reds and oranges and greens and purples frilling with layer after layer of material. The bells that line the rim of her skirt and anklets are silver. 

She is a wondrous burst of colour, and Fi can only watch as she feels her breath get caught in her throat.

The drumming and music soon come to an end, and the onlookers toss gold coins at the feet of the lustrous dancer. She does a little curtsy to humour them, smiling as she bows and bends down to pick up the coins. The crowd dissipates, yet Fi is stood there, entranced at the sight of the dancer. 

She feels a tap on her shoulder that jolts her back to reality. 

“How much would these tulips cost, youngin’?” A gruff voice asks her. Her head snaps in the direction of the voice and the sight of a man in a worn dustygrey coat thrown over red and black beneath greets her. The creases in his forehead deepen as he snaps his fingers a little too close to her eyes and says “Earth to, youngin’, I haven’t got all day now,”, tongue clicking in annoyance. 

Fi shakes her head violently.  _ Snap out of it, Fiona, for the love of God! _

“U-uh, fou-no, five, yes, five coins for a bunch, sir.” 

The man digs out five coins and drops them in Fi’s palm as she hands him a bunch of the tulips. She watches as the man walks over to the gypsy and tosses her a tulip as he passes.

The tulip falls on the cobblestone pavement. The gypsy looks up at him, and then she turns and looks straight at Fi. Her deep darkwood brown eyes stare back at her own brightblue ones in intent.

Fi feels her cheeks heat up and her ears turn hot. She looks away from the gypsy dancer and walks away, almost breaking out into a run as the events of the afternoon begin setting in her mind. She doesn’t, however, turn around to see the gypsy’s lips curl up in an amused smirk.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit more world building before the fun starts. ;)

“Louise, here,” she says, handing the coins to the blonde maiden standing by her stall. Fi’s breath comes out in puffs and Louise raises an eyebrow. 

“Is everything okay, Fi? Why were you running on your way back?”

“I-I thought you’d be waiting,” Fi tries, hoping that she comes off as earnest. 

Louise gives her a look – one of incredulousness and concern. “I really don’t mind waiting, Fi. You know that.”

Fi looks down at the cobblestoned pavement. They’re fast friends, Louise and Fiona, and they’ve taken over each other’s stalls quite a bit in the past. There was a time Louise’s daughter Darcy fell terribly ill, and her poor friend was struggling to make ends meet. Fi had pitched in to help throughout the entire week while Louise nursed her little one back to health. Since then, Louise had taken it onto herself to help Fi in whatever little way she could. 

Fi hadn’t been quick to take up on her offer. In fact, Fi has never been good with getting help from people at all. Today had been a rare occurrence – a blip in space and time, and she sold a few flowers, sure, but it hadn’t been worth it. Fi doesn’t plan on doing it again soon, if not ever. 

Fi sets the flowers down on the table, panting. “I know, Lou. I-I just wanted to head back.” She huffs and blows a stray strand of black hair away from her eyes - an act of awkwardness and embarassment disguised in faux annoyance. She hopes Louise thinks her reddened cheeks are from the running and not from anything else. 

Louise doesn’t say anything. Fi sighs. 

“I’ll tell you about it later, alright, Lou?”

Louise’s voice turns soft. “If you want to, Fi-Fi. Only if you want to.”

She does, honestly, and she would tell Louise right there and then if only she didn’t feel like she was a burden as much as she does. 

-

The rest of the day goes on without much event, and Fi manages to keep her mind off of the midday occurrence. She drags herself home in the late afternoon, carrying two baskets of peonies and irises. Her mother’s in the laundry area, scrubbing away at a particularly insistent stain splattered across a babyblue frock. The peonies and irises are put into a small barrel with water and a little sugar where they rest till the next morning. Fi heads to the laundry. 

“Go have lunch first, Fiona, there’s stew and rice,” Katherine shoos her, holding the brush away from her daughter. “No scrubbing until you’re fed,” she says firmly. Fi obliges, secretly a little thankful that she gets to sit down and rest.

It’s only when she’s eaten a spoonful of rice and stew that she realises how hungry she is, and she scarfs down the entire plate. The stew is a little cold, but to Fi it’s the most delicious meal she’s ever had. (Anything Katherine whips up for her is the best meal, really, but as of today, it’s her cool vegetable stew and rice.)

Fi heads to the laundry after lunch. Her mother’s worn and tired hands don’t quite squeeze out the sudsy water like how they use to, so Fi does it instead. The water streams and swirls down the pipes and into the Beluvian drainage system, and she watches the bubbles swish around before they disappear down the dark hole forever. It reminds Fi of saltywhite seafoam that rides on the waves and of her silenced dreams of sailing across the seas. 

She tries not to let the resentment show, instead swallowing it down and feeling it whirl like the murky darkwater does, slick with soap. 

-

Night falls. It’s one of the favourite parts of Fi’s day, really, because it’s the time the stars come out and the moon smiles down at the world, lacing the darkness with a translucent silveryblue glow. She often sneaks away to the seawalls lining the shore and takes in the sight and smell of the sea at night. The ripples of the waves cut the sterlingsilver reflection of the full moon that streaks across the water like a beacon of pure white light. The waves crashing against rocks and the shore serve to calm Fi a little, and she just stands there in silence, taking everything in. 

She then catches sight of something on the sandy shore.

Down by the grove of coconut trees at the other side of the seawall there’s a flickering fire, and dancing around the fire in twirls and swirls is an elusive figure. Fi squints and steps back in alarmed amazement when she sees ribbons of neonbright gold spinning around the figure like the tail ends of shooting stars. It's like the dancing figure is whipping up fluorescent ribbons from the sand and twirling it around. 

Fii's feet seem to carry her towards the elusive and most certainly  _ mythical _ being weaving strands of golden light from thin air. She bounds down the sandystone stairs down the seawall that connects the shore to the elevated land, eyes glued on the figure. The swirls of honeygold light sparkling around the shifting form illuminates strips of clothes and skin, and the closer she gets, the more apparent it is that the figure is a woman.  

The gypsy woman, to be precise, from the town square.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think! thanks for reading 💕


End file.
